The only way past the pain is through it. Pain, grief, anger, misery...they don't go away--they just increase and compound and get worse. You have to live through them, acknowledge them. You have to give your pain its due.
Jasinda WilderStichwörter: pain loss death anger grief misery dying mental-health nell-hawthorne
Because it isn’t a loss; just a little piece of their haven had broken off. People can patch things; it still may hurt, but that’s life.
Mandi LynnStichwörter: happiness loss death sad essence haven gone
Then, when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I see it. And I knew, only then, that I’m truly in Heaven.
Mandi LynnStichwörter: life inspirational happiness peace death heaven essence
This may not be much, but it is something. Tomorrow we die; but at least we danced in silver shoes.
Stella GibbonsStichwörter: dancing death future-inspirational
When we lose someone we love the pang we experience seems irresistible at first; but gradually it dies out. This is an undeniable fact. Yet, this does not mean that our love object has vanished into thin air; no, it is simply instilled and integrated into our being. Thus two have become one!”
By T. Afsin Ilgar - Ted`s Tale
Stichwörter: love lost death eternal-love
The Marquis de V... - whose falsetto voice and little watery eyes I have always detested - was saying to me with a wicked smile: 'Then again, the master gymnast might break his neck at any moment. What he is doing now is very dangerous, my dear, and the pleasure you take in his performance is the little frisson that danger affords you. Wouldn't it be thrilling, if his sweaty hand failed to grip the bar? The velocity acquired by his rotation about the bar would break his spine quite cleanly, and perhaps a little of the cervical matter might spurt out as far as this! It would be most sensational, and you would have a rare emotion to add to the field of your experience - for you collect emotions, don't you? What a pretty stew of terrors that man in tights stirs up in us!
'Admit that you almost wish that he will fall! Me too. Many others in the auditorium are in the same state of attention and anguish. That is the horrible instinct of a crowd confronted with a spectacle which awakens in it the ideas of lust and death. Those two agreeable companions always travel together! Take it from me that at the very same moment - see, the man is now holding on to the bar by his fingertips alone - at the very same moment, a good number of the women in these boxes are ardently lusting after that man, not so much for his beauty as for the danger he courts.'
The voice subtly changed its tone, suddenly becoming more interested. 'You have singularly pale eyes this evening, my dear Freneuse. You ought to give up bromides and take valerian instead. You have a charming and curious soul, but you must take command of its changes. You are too ardently and too obviously covetous, this evening, of the death - or at least the fall - of that man.'
I did not reply. The Marquis de V... was quite right. The madness of murder had taken hold of me again; the spectacle had me in its hallucinatory grip. Straitened by a penetrating and delirious anguish, I yearned for that man to fall.
There are appalling depths of cruelty within me.
Stichwörter: death lust decadence accident spectacle decadent decadents acrobat
March 1898
What a strange dream I had last night! I wandered in the warm streets of a port, in the low quarter of some Barcelona or Marseille. The streets were noisome, with their freshly-heaped piles of ordure outside the doors, in the blue shadows of their high roofs. They all led down towards the sea. The gold-spangled sea, seeming as if it had been polished by the sun, could be seen at the end of each thoroughfare, bristling with yard-arms and luminous masts. The implacable blue of the sky shone brilliantly overhead as I wandered through the long, cool and sombre corridors in the emptiness of a deserted district: a quarter which might almost have been dead, abruptly abandoned by seamen and foreigners. I was alone, subjected to the stares of prostitutes seated at their windows or in the doorways, whose eyes seemed to ransack my very soul.
They did not speak to me. Leaning on the sides of tall bay-windows or huddled in doorways, they were silent. Their breasts and arms were bare, bizarrely made up in pink, their eyebrows were darkened, they wore their hair in corkscrew-curls, decorated with paper flowers and metal birds. And they were all exactly alike!
They might have been huge marionettes, or tall mannequin dolls left behind in panic - for I divined that some plague, some frightful epidemic brought from the Orient by sailors, had swept through the town and emptied it of its inhabitants. I was alone with these simulacra of love, abandoned by the men on the doorsteps of the brothels.
I had already been wandering for hours without being able to find a way out of that miserable quarter, obsessed by the fixed and varnished eyes of all those automata, when I was seized by the sudden thought that all these girls were dead, plague-stricken and putrefied by cholera where they stood, in the solitude, beneath their carmine plaster masks... and my entrails were liquefied by cold. In spite of that harrowing chill, I was drawn closer to a motionless girl. I saw that she was indeed wearing a mask... and the girl in the next doorway was also masked... and all of them were horribly alike under their identical crude colouring...
I was alone with the masks, with the masked corpses, worse than the masks... when, all of a sudden, I perceived that beneath the false faces of plaster and cardboard, the eyes of these dead women were alive.
Their vitreous eyes were looking at me...
I woke up with a cry, for in that moment I had recognised all the women. They all had the eyes of Kranile and Willie, of Willie the mime and Kranile the dancer. Every one of the dead women had Kranile's left eye and Willie's right eye... so that every one of them appeared to be squinting.
Am I to be haunted by masks now?
Stichwörter: death dream dead decadence plague masks mask nightmare automata puppets town cholera prostitutes mannequin mannequins marionettes
Ο Μπρόιερ προσπάθησε να αποτινάξει το θάνατο απ' το μυαλό του. Μουρμούρισε το αγαπημένο του ξόρκι, τη φράση του Λουκρητίου: «Όπου είναι ο θάνατος, εγώ δεν είμαι. Όπου είμαι εγώ, ο θάνατος δεν είναι. Γιατί ν' ανησυχώ;» Αλλ' αυτό δεν βοήθησε.
Τίναξε το κεφάλι του, προσπαθώντας να διώξει αυτές τις μακάβριες σκέψεις. Από που του είχαν έρθει; Απ' την κουβέντα για το θάνατο που έκανε με τον Νίτσε; Όχι, μάλλον δεν του τις έβαλε ο Νίτσε στο μυαλό, απλώς τις απελευθέρωσε. Πάντα ήταν εκεί. Όλες τις είχε ξανασκεφτεί. Σε ποια περιοχή του μυαλού του όμως κατοικούσαν, όταν δεν τις σκεφτόταν; Ο Φρόυντ είχε δίκιο: πρέπει να υπάρχει μια δεξαμενή σύνθετων σκέψεων στον εγκέφαλο, πέρα απ' τη συνείδηση, αλλά σε ετοιμότητα, έτοιμες οποιαδήποτε στιγμή να κληθούν να παρελάσουν στη σκηνή της συνειδητότητας.
Και σ' αυτή τη μη συνειδητή δεξαμενή, δεν θα υπάρχουν μόνο σκέψεις, αλλά και συναισθήματα! Πριν λίγες μέρες, μέσ' απ' το αμάξι του, ο Μπρόιερ κοίταξε το διπλανό αμάξι. Τα δυό του άλογα τριπόδιζαν τραβώντας πίσω τους την καρότσα, που μέσα της κάθονταν δυο επιβάτες, ένα σκυθρωπό ηλικιωμένο ζευγάρι. Όμως δεν υπήρχε αμαξάς. Ένα αμάξι φάντασμα! Ο τρόμος τον τύφλωσε, κι είχε μια στιγμιαία εφίδρωση: τα ρούχα του μέσα σε δευτερόλεπτα έγιναν μούσκεμα. Κι έπειτα φάνηκε ο οδηγός του αμαξιού: είχε απλώς σκύψει για να δέσει την μπότα του.
Στην αρχή ο Μπρόιερ είχε γελάσει με την ανόητη αντίδρασή του. Αλλά όσο περισσότερο τη σκεφτόταν, τόσο συνειδητοποιούσε ότι, όσο ορθολογιστής κι ελεύθερος διανοητής κι αν ήταν, στο μυαλό του όμως κρύβονταν φωλιές υπερφυσικού τρόμου. Κι όχι πολύ βαθιά: «εφημέρευαν», βρίσκονταν δευτερόλεπτα μακριά απ' την επιφάνεια. Α, να υπήρχε μια λαβίδα να ξεριζώσει αυτές τις φωλιές, σαν τις αμυγδαλές!
Stichwörter: death metaphysics rationalism
Wherever you go in the next
catastrophé
Be it sickroom, or prison,
or cemet’ry
Do not fear that your stay will be
solit’ry
Countless souls share your fate,
you’ll have company!
Stichwörter: fear optimism friends freedom solitude fate death loneliness prison poem isolation togetherness illness sickness luck trouble roman farewell catastrophes cemetery rhyme optimist camaraderie optimistic roman-payne bad-luck 21st-century wanderess loneliness-quotes rhyming aesthete-press basement-trains french-american ill-fate moderoom stanza
One of the most deadly causes of destruction of divine destinies is when a leader is failing, but he or she does not know it. Ignorance about your role is a death plot against people's successes.
Israelmore AyivorStichwörter: success knowledge vision death ignorance dead responsibility failure destruction leadership destiny kill food-for-thought leader lead fail destroy ignore leaders divine ignorant leading failing deadly role israelmore-ayivor true-leaders self-leaders true-leader false-leader leads self-leader dream-killers bad-leader death-plot failing-leaders poor-leadership
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